Writing My Far-Flung Life

August 29, 2016

Back to School: The More Things Change…

Hardin Elementary School. The covered walkway and orange sign weren’t there when I attended. We were bussed to the high school to eat lunch. The elementary didn’t have a cafeteria until I was in second grade.

When I was a child and summer break was drawing to a close, mom would take my sister and me to buy school supplies. My love for this was intense. It signaled beginnings — a new school year, new teachers, a fresh start.

But I also loved it because it made me feel organized.

After the supplies were arranged on my bed I’d open the package of file dividers and put them in my new spiral-ringed notebook then put sheets of rule-lined paper in each section.

Each package of scissors, school paste, rubber erasers, pencils and pens would be opened and put into the see-through bag with three holes on the side. Packing everything “just so” and visible inside the plastic meant… what, exactly? I wish I knew. But it gave me a rush. Lastly, I’d secure the supply bag into the binder and close it.

Then I’d kneel beside my bed and open the notebook slowly. I’d unzip the bag and pretend to remove something I needed. I’d open a tab so I was looking at a thin stack of gleaming white pages.

On the first day of class, we were issued our textbooks. The First State Bank in Liberty provided book covers made from brown paper like grocery sacks.

The covers had dotted lines in the corners you cut with scissors then turned over onto glued edges that needed to be licked. The process was rather laborious, which explained why most students just folded the ends down and were done with it. But not me. I wanted to cover my books correctly.

Once all of my textbooks were done I would stack them atop one another. The monochromatic brown of the perfectly done covers… heaven, sheer heaven.

And I still like things when they’re freshly organized (despite my problem with remaining organized.)

It creates anticipation. When everything is neatly in place, anything is possible.

This week was the opening of the Fall semester at the college. I don’t buy school supplies anymore but I do have Getting Prepared rituals.

I carry a shoulder bag on campus. It holds the textbooks for my classes, a three-ring spiral notebook where I keep grade books, attendance records, syllabi and handouts.

But the shoulder bag I’ve used for years fell apart on my last night in Quito, Ecuador. (When I travel I pack lightly — a carry-on and a shoulder bag.) The zippers wouldn’t zip; the edges lost their sewn binding. I wrapped one of my belts around it; some of my T-shirts could be seen from the sides. I looked like Jed Clampett on my way to the airport.

Back at home, I bought a nice leather bag for my trip to Paris. Four weeks later I was waiting in line to board the flight from Barcelona to Tangier and the shoulder strap pulled completely out. The bag dropped to the floor with a loud thud. I had to carry it by the handle for the next three weeks before I made it back home.

Then I threw it away. While in Vancouver I found a bag constructed of safety belt straps by a woman who salvaged them from junked cars. She’d sewn them with an industrial sewing machine. It’s the sturdiest bag I’ve ever seen. Cleverly, it snaps shut with a safety belt buckle.

And so last week I carefully arranged my books, pens, whiteboard markers and other supplies into my new shoulder bag. And loved the organization and the promises it holds.

Forty-five years after those long ago back-to-school days and I’m doing the very same thing.

We like to believe we’re no longer children and all grown up. But the older I get, the more I question this idea. Am I really so radically changed?

I still enjoy that feeling of leaving the library with a big stack of books; I’m still devoted to reading. I love waking up in the morning to the sound of rain. I still drink V-8 all the time, like I used to do with my friend Karen before band practice. When something really wonderful happens in my life (and I’m alone at home) I still jump up and down.

I’m a balding middle-aged man with many years separating me from that child attending elementary school in Hardin, Texas.

But maybe not so different after all. The thought gives me an odd kind of thrill.

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Our book covers were plastic coated on the outside and covered with ads; some kids turned the uncoated side out so they could draw monsters or hearts with their boyfriends’ names in them. I appreciate your obsession for organizing and anticipation of clean, new things and fresh adventures. Bart, I love the nice-and-easy-ness of your blog. It inspires me as a writer.

Oh, this piece is sheer delight, Bart! I especially love the part where you kneel by the bed and “try out” the new tabs and storage thing. I can so see you doing this. I was/am the same way. And jumping up and down is the best.

Hi Bart, I remember the same things about starting school and going to get my school supplies and laying everything out to organize it just so. The book covers that had the photo of the bank on the outside I drew on so much for 12 years I could have built the front of the bank by heart. I knew each brick, board and the dimensions of the windows! I do remember your desk being so cluttered with paper and books that our 5th grade teacher had Wendy help you clean it out during class. It’s funny how we remember the things that don’t matter to anyone but us. I always enjoy your stories about your adventures around the world and our adventures we had in school. Kim B.

Goodness, I don’t even recognize Hardin Elementary anymore! Perhaps if you had a picture of the principal’s office, it’d be more familiar! 🙂 I do remember the book covers, and I have fond memories of the library and friends. I believe I have a couple of the year books around somewhere. I’ll have to look through them and see what other memories can be found!

Yes, the elementary has changed… did you know they’re building a brand new elementary? It’s on the same side of Hwy 146 but further north, toward Liberty. When we were in school, there were two first grade classes. Now, there are seven or eight first grade classes. Good to hear from you, Tim.